Lessons Learned
by Robbins2
Summary: Hermione has tested the patience of Professor Snape and must pay the price. There is non sexual spanking of teen in this. If this is not your thing, this story isn't for you


**Lessons Learned**

 **DISCLAIMER - The characters are all created by JK Rowling. I am borrowing for my own enjoyment.**

I was more afraid walking down the cold stone steps to the Potions classroom than I was the time I realised I was trapped alone in a bathroom with a wild mountain troll.

I remember telling myself, firmly and logically that the man I was going to see was a Professor at this school, my teacher, an educator. Not an executioner.

Except that Professor Snape barely disguised his intolerance of students and when it came to Gryffindors like me, his behaviour spilled more towards active hostility.

The outcome of this encounter was a forgone conclusion, I knew that. He was going to come down on me like a tonne of bricks. I knew better than to expect fair hearing, anything other than retribution. Forget justice.

And I already knew what it was I feared. He could and would expel me. A minor triumph for him, a devastating life changer for me.

I would have been happy for the walk to the Potions classroom to have taken a long time, yet somehow before my brain caught up to my feet, I was standing in front of the closed door, the ancient wood darkened by time and countless hands pressing against the sturdy panels.

I raised my hand and knocked before the last of my courage failed. I wanted to fix a look of indifference on my face, a look that hid my fear and I tried but I really don't think I succeeded.

When the door opened and the black robes of Professor Snape swirled into the opening like tumultuous storm clouds, I looked up into his steely face and felt my mouth go dry. And then, I surprised myself.

"I would like to speak with you, Professor, if you have a minute."

I was standing so straight, I might as well as have had a body bind spell put on me.

He rose an eyebrow, his eyes black as a raven's wing, cold as the first winter frost.

"Would you now? In that case, you must come in, Miss Granger," he moved to open the door wider, his lips lifted in a crooked and rather unnerving smile.

I stepped over the threshold, my feet moving as if of their own accord and I swallowed, my heart beating uncomfortably fast, as though I had run a great distance.

The room, deep in the dungeons of the castle felt even colder than usual. I wouldn't have been surprised if my breath fogged in front of my face. I wouldn't have been surprised if I wasn't breathing at all when this encounter was done.

He stood, dark and still and silent at the door and I took a few steps and faltered, uncertainty bringing me to an uneasy halt.

I looked down at the grey flagstones beneath my feet, clasping my hands in front of me to stop myself from fidgeting.

Several seconds of silence passed, stretching until they seemed to gain weight, a presence that made my skin prickle.

I knew what he was doing. He was not going to be the first to speak and something told me that Severus Snape could wait into eternity if he had to.

I cleared my throat. Took a deep breath and tried to look at him but failed.

"I wanted to apologise for my .. Dispruption of your lesson earlier," I said, looking at the handle of the door just behind his elbow.

"That's it? This is what I am giving up the precious minute of my time to hear?"

His voice was scathing and inwardly I grimaced. I knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"Professor Snape, I am sorry I disobeyed you in class and I want to say that it… it won't happen again…. Sir,"

I tried one more time. Afterall, what had I done that was so bad? Today's Potions lesson was one of the worst yet, certainly for poor Neville Longbottom who was so intimidated by Snape that he was reduced to a trembling heap in his presence.

So I whispered a little hint or two to help him along. Afterall, Neville's chances of success were hardly going to be improved by feeling terrified he was going to be made to feed a poisonous potion to his pet toad.

Professor Snape had remained standing in front of the door throughout all of this, now at last, he moved. He took two slow steps towards me and it took every ounce of my courage not to take matching steps in retreat.

"It won't happen again," he repeated my words as though testing them for himself. Again, a chilling sneer lifted his lips.

"You will be pleased to learn that as always, you are absolutely correct, Miss Granger," he said and I thought my heart was going to stop. I'd had it in my mind he was going to expel me but it was still a tremendous jolt to hear him confirm my fears.

I could not think of a single thing to say. I knew I was gaping at him stupidly but I was frozen, my throat tightening, my thoughts stalled, unable to take in the terrible idea that I was about to be thrown out of school.

"This is a version of you I would like to see more of, blessedly quiet! For once, Miss Granger, you are showing the unusual good sense to hold your tongue!" his disparaging tone and scathing words should have stung, should have sparked my own ire but nothing could have mattered to me in the face of feeling my world come crashing down.

Every dream I'd ever had was turning to dust in front of my very eyes. From top of my class, I was about to become a failed witch. I would not be able to do magic again, Harry and Ron and all my friends would get to graduate Hogwarts, become fully qualified wizards, I would never again be part of their world.

As if a gate in my brain was opened, the poisonous thoughts filtered through, each one more horrible than the last.

I looked down at my feet, tears filling my eyes, a gasp of anguished torment escaping my lips. What was I to do now? Go back to the muggle world, follow my father's footsteps as a dentist?

A pair of black shoes, polished to a high shine stepped before my downcast eyes.

"If you are hoping that tears will earn you my sympathy, you are much mistaken," the words mocked me, rolling like a slow breaking wave around me, cold and devoid of comfort.

I looked up at him, into a face that could have been carved from marble. Coal black eyes gazed down at me, empty of any feeling I could read. If he had even betrayed a sign of anger in his expression, strangely, I would have felt better. Anger, no matter how hot it may burn will pass. You can reason with anger. The aloof, almost detached composure was worse. Stepping on a bug would have cost him more emotion.

"I don't want sympathy," I said quietly. I frowned into his stern face.

"What you want or don't want is of no particular interest to me, Miss Granger. You are here to face the music, as I believe the expression goes. You do not have a say in it," his lips curled.

My stomach was churning and my mouth was dry. I felt ill and light headed and closer to desperation than I had ever been in my life.

"Please."

It was all I could think to say. All I could manage to get out past the uncomfortable lump in my throat that made my breath short.

His expression darkened as a scowl swept across his face, a leaden precursor of the storm to come.

My head swam and there were curious little spots dazzling my vision, like a shower of sparks. Then there was a high buzzing in my ears and the room was moving.

In less than a second I realised that it was not the room but me that was moving. I was falling and would have collapsed in a heap at his feet had he not moved with lightening grace to catch me.

He gripped my upper arms and braced me on knees that felt like water.

"What are you doing, you stupid girl? What's the matter with you?"

Now there was impatience in his voice, the glacial control cracked. It did not make him seem kinder but certainly more human.

He shook me, not roughly but firmly enough to drive back the stars that swam in my eyes and the clouds that filled my head.

"Tears? Hysterics? Begging? And all to get out of a spanking? Little lion, you should be ashamed to call yourself a Gryffindor," he sounded almost pleased at my disgrace.

At first that rankled but then what he had said registered. I stood straighter and he let me go.

I narrowed my eyes and I wondered if I had misheard him. I must have had.

"Spanking?"

I looked at him with renewed mistrust. He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of confirmation.

"You aren't going to expel me?" I hardly dared hope.

He exhaled a breath with a disdainful sneer.

"My first instinct, I assure you. But alas, it is something that remains on my wish list for now. Instead, I must console with myself with giving you something you have had coming for years and taking you over my knee for a good spanking,"

I felt the blood rush into my face, hot as scalding water. I took a backwards step.

"That..that is not allowed. Dum.. Professor Dumbledore will sack you," I said with a confidence I did not feel.

"I think not. For one who parades around this school showing off the bounty of her genius at every turn, you are acting as dimwitted as Longbottom," his eyes bored into mine.

"Why do you think you are here?" he asked silkily.

I scrabbled to think.

"Because I disobeyed you today and gave Neville some help with his potion even after you told me not to," I admitted and he tutted.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he paced in front of me, slowly, lethal as a cobra eying up its prey.

"Wrong. It is true that as usual, your arrogance got the better of your judgement in my class. A chance to show off and you could not resist. But that is not why you are here, with me instead of getting dealt with by your head of house," he spoke slowly, as if spelling out something very simple to one of little understanding.

"Setting my robes on fire? Stealing from my private store? And now completely disregarding my express instructions in my own classroom? You have been crossing so many lines since you got here, Miss Granger, it's getting difficult to keep track of them all," he ground out, jet eyes flashing at me.

I blushed harder still, now thoroughly flustered.

"But how did you know?"

I knew it was a confession but I wanted the answer too much to care.

"Who else? Potter lacks the impulse control to plan, to strategise and Weasley would not have thought of any of it in ten lifetimes. You aren't as clever as you might think you are. Your tracks are not exactly well covered. Today's defiance is just another example of your complete disregard for my authority," he said.

"So Professor McGonagall has had to admit the problem is getting out of hand. She has discussed the matter with the Headmaster, who feels as I do, that a firmer hand is required to straighten this out," the black eyes glinted maliciously as he imparted this information and I knew he was telling the truth.

"You mean to frighten me!" I accused, unsettled now, feeling as though a trap was snapping shut behind me.

"I do."

He leaned towards me, just a fraction and I actually thought the temperature in the already cool room dropped yet further.

"And it is working. Which is no bad thing. Because I intend that you won't forget the lesson you are about tot learn here in a hurry," he said with a sort of malicious glee.

"I only wanted to help Neville. He was terrified. He couldn't think straight!" I tried to appeal to his instincts as a teacher.

"You wanted to flaunt your self perceived brilliance! How is Longbottom to learn anything if he has little Miss Know It All whispering the answers to him? He is too distracted by the idea of his fear of me to focus on the task," he said, caustically.

"Exactly. I wanted to give him a little hand, to stop him being so afraid of failing," I insisted.

"Thereby removing any hope that he will succeed for himself. Give a man a fish, Miss Granger and he eats for a day. Teach him to fish, on the other hand…" his sentence petered out and he studied me with his brow arched, watching as I felt the truth of what he was saying sink in.

"Longbottom has to push through that fear or for the rest of his life, it will cripple him any time he encounters something he finds intimidating!"

I knew he was right and I looked away, fixing my eyes on a point in the distance above his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly and this time, I meant it.

He went and pulled a chair from its place against a wall close to his desk. I watched silent and scared. I remember thinking to myself that I might make it out of the door if I made a run for it.

"If you move so much as an eyebrow and I will double this punishment."

He issued the droling warning after the merest glance at me. Harry half believed Snape could read minds and I wondered then if he was right.

"You can't hurt me!" my voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

"I can. But I won't. At least not permanently. This is not designed to be a pleasant thing, Miss Granger but I promise, you will keep all of your limbs and vital organs and they will be in full working order when I'm done," he replied.

In two strides he had covered the space separating us and reached out a long fingered hand to take hold of my arm.

He looked down at me, his face without mercy, without compassion. I met the midnight eyes and it was like looking into vast craters of emptiness.

"If you are planning further fainting spells or hysterics, best get it over with now," he sneered.

Curiously, his jibe had the effect of stirring defiance in me. If he was expecting me to cry and plead, then he was going to be disappointed. He could do his worst, whatever was to come, I would not let myself show weakness in front of him again.

I think something of my resolve must have shown in my face because a spark glinted in the fathomless black of his eyes, it could almost have been approval.

He brought me to the chair, released me to hitch the knees of his robes before sitting in one graceful movement.

"I will lean you over and administer your punishment. You may cry as much as you want but do not fight me. Dropping you on your head is not part of the discipline I intend," he said, eyeing me firmly.

Butterflies fluttered in an unpleasant symphony in my tummy but I held his gaze evenly.

"I'm thirteen. Isn't that a little old to go across your knee?"

In truth, embarrassment was stronger than fear in me at that point. This might not be so bad if he made me lean over a desk or something.

"You are a silly child with big notions, nothing more. I will chastise you as I see fit," he said dismissively.

"You will remain fully clothed and I will use no implement other than my hand."

He took hold of my wrist and flipped me effortlessly so that before I had even realised it, I was studying the uneven grey stone of the floor.

"How many?" I asked and though I realised it would make no difference whatsoever, I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Enough to ensure that you will learn a little humility, Miss Granger. And the good manners to show your teachers some respect," he said icily.

The words were not out of his mouth when I felt the first smack land and the accompanying sting drove all thought from my mind. Three swats later and despite my resolve, tears burned behind my tightly closed eyelids and sobs made my throat feel tight and dry.

He didn't lecture as he spanked me, he was silent throughout and after a few seconds I realised that the ragged breaths I could hear were my own.

I opened my eyes to see my own tears land in little splashes on the stone polished by the thousands of feet that had walked this floor over many centuries.

I don't know how many swats he gave me, all I knew was that it felt as though the seat of my jeans had caught on fire.

Then, incongruously, a gentle hand was exerting warm pressure on my shoulder.

"You are ok. Breathe, good girl."

The Potions Master's voice was quiet but this time, not in his mocking whisper. He was sounding soothing.

"I am going to stand you back on your feet now. It's all over," he continued.

The hands on my shoulder were strong and he lifted me upwards before rising himself, to stand in front of me, a hazy black figure obscured behind the veil of my tears.

I swiped my tears inelegantly with the back of my hand and made to push toward the door.

"Hold it. Miss Granger for Merlin's sake, take a minute to compose yourself. I have no desire to see you tumble back down those stairs in a heap!" he said, exasperation in his tone.

But a crisp white handkerchief suddenly appeared in front of my eyes.

I took it from him, and gave him a grateful look, swiftly as I was too embarrassed to meet his gaze. And the tears came and though they shamed me terribly, I could not make them stop.

Presently, I felt a hand come to rest, palm downwards on my head, a curiously affectionate gesture that made me cry harder.

"Hush, hush, now. It wasn't so bad, surely?" he asked at length.

His being horrid I could brace myself for, his being nice to me, that seemed to make me feel more miserable.

I swabbed ferociously at my tears with the handkerchief, drawing in searing breaths to calm my heartbeat.

Finally, I felt a modicum of control return.

"I am ok, Professor. May I go now?" I asked, looking up into the wintry eyes.

He nodded once and I turned and fled the dungeon, desperate to be alone, to seek my equilibrium once more.

I almost had it too by the time breakfast was served in the Great Hall the next morning. As usual, I was seated with Harry and Ron, each of my friends flanking me at the Gryffindor table protectively. They did not know what had happened in the dungeons, they suspected that Snape had issued some malignant punishment but sensing my mood in the hours after, they knew better than to ask.

In fact, I felt conflicted. The spanking had been mortifying and Professor Snape had been nothing short of terrifying when he issued it. Yet her had been rather kind to me afterwards and that was so unexpected, I did not know how to process it. And though I still felt rather tender when I sat down, what smarted more was the sense that I had let him down. I had not shown Professor Snape the same respect I did with my other teachers and though I told myself it was because he was too horrible to deserve it, now I knew that not to be true.

I kept my gaze firmly averted from the teachers' table throughout the meal, focusing instead on my copy of The Daily Prophet. My head was so low, my nose almost touched the ink.

And so, it was only when I realised that the chatter between my two friends had fallen into an uneasy silence that I sensed another presence. Without looking around, I knew who it was.

"Miss Granger, a word. My office, now."

The summons was peremptory and he was already moving away, black robes swirling in his wake.

The boys looked at my with a mixture of sympathy and horror. What could he possibly intend for me now? By the looks on the faces of Ron and Harry, they would not have been surprised if bits of me featured bottled as potions ingredients.

I rose and without haste or enthusiasm, I went and followed his route to his dungeon office. His rapid pace meant that he had arrived long minutes before I presented myself.

I knocked timidly at the door and he looked up from his desk, where he was bent over a pile of parchment rolls.

"Come in. Close the door, Miss Granger and you can stop looking like I'm going to issue you with a one way ticket to Azkaban," he said dryly.

I stepped over the threshold, a not terribly pleasant feeling of déjà vu stirring.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" I said, lamely. He could hardly have forgotten!

"I want to talk to you. Sit down," he indicated the chair before his desk.

I obeyed, wondering all the time if his punishment was to be delivered in instalments. Was that why he had called me here?

"You were quite upset leaving here yesterday," it was a statement, not a question and I looked down, to where my hands were clasped in my lap.

"Look at me, please."

I didn't get the sense I had much choice and it took quite a stock of my courage to lift my eyes to meet his.

He was seated behind his desk, his own hands resting on the surface, fingers intertwined. He didn't look as formidable as usual, his face bore a look that was as close to benign as he got.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, have you been disciplined physically before yesterday?" he asked.

My colour deepened and I shook my head. What did that matter?

"I see. That explains it. I have been a little concerned, I admit. I don't issue that punishment frequently, though it may surprise you hear that. But I have never seen a child cry quite so hard over it," he said.

I didn't think it was possible to blush harder but now I wondered if the blood in my face was actually boiling. On top of everything, I had distinguished myself by being the weakest coward he had encountered, the biggest cry-baby. Mortification burned like acid.

"I was taken off guard that was all," I said, not able to disguise the defensive note in my voice.

His lips lifted in a ghost of a smile but I did not feel he was laughing at me.

"Your Gryffindor credentials are not in question!" he said, his eyes glinting.

"I have not exactly been behaving much like a Gryffindor, Professor. I get that. And I get that's why I was punished. You must hate me," I thought of the disregard I had shown him and shame flared again.

His eyebrows rose and he gave me a look that I could have interpreted as hurt.

"Hate you? What foolish talk! I knew that you were bound to fill your head with misinterpretations the state you were in leaving here yesterday. I should not have let you out of that door until you were clear on a few things," he said wearily.

"You were not spanked because I hate you or dislike you. I did not approve of your behaviour and wished to issue a correction to rectify it. I should have made that clear," he said.

"You are the only Professor to find me below par," I admitted, wounded.

"The other teachers grade you highly for setting them alight and stealing from them, do they?" he shot back.

I looked away.

"You are best in your classes because you give them the best you are capable of. Can you truly say that I have seen that from you, Hermione?" he challenged.

"No, Sir," I admitted in a small voice.

"No. Which is why I punished you as I did yesterday. It is about time the brightest witch of her age started acting like it in my classes," he said and I almost fell off my chair.

My eyes shot to his but his face was set in firm lines, no disparaging sneer.

Guilt brought fresh tears to my eyes.

"I am sorry, Professor Snape. I will do better from now on," I said, earnestly and truthfully.

He stood up and walked around the desk, so I rose to my feet also. He reached out and swept a tear from my cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"No need for more tears, Miss Granger. I will take you at your word."

He placed an arm around my shoulder and gave me a quick but bracing hug.

"Dry your eyes now. Do not go out to class looking like you've been sobbing your heart out. Let us say that we have an understanding, yes?"

He looked down at me and though it seemed ridiculous to think it, I felt that he was speaking to me as though we were equals.

And I felt that I had learned something very new to me. Sometimes, the most valuable lessons are learned from those we underestimate.

I would never see him in quite the same way again. Harry and Ron loathed him and so it would be many years before I could ever admit to either of them that from then on, I had a new favourite teacher, a mentor and I looked up to him as I had to no-one else.

He didn't teach me, he challenged me, one of the few to ever to do that.

Time would proclaim him a remarkably brave man but after that, I always knew that he was hero. He could save you before you even knew you needed saving.


End file.
